


A Day in the Life

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Fringe
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Femslash, POV Character of Color, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into Agent Farnsworth's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life

The first time Astrid walks into the lab all she can think about is how easy her new job will not go.

Walter's crazy. Like, really crazy. She was brought on to the Fringe Division as a computer tech/lab assistant but the truth is he also needs a babysitter. She's okay with that. And now that they've been working together a while she has even learned to accept (and every once in a while enjoy) the constant surprises that get thrown her way. Especially during lucid moments when Walter actually acts human and all she wants to do is wrap him up in her arms or beat him over the head with a big stick. 

The reason she stays, however, is because of Agent Dunham. Walter makes the job interesting and his son, Peter, makes it bearable. But Dunham, in her non-official field uniform of black blazer, black slacks and light-colored (usually white) button down shirts, makes life better just by looking at her.

She's seen the woman naked, well, half naked anyway, so it's not like she just wants her for her body. No, it's more than that. Astrid's never seen her lose control and it makes her want to caress her neck when she cocks her head, just to see if she'd shudder. Lick her breasts to draw out a sigh. Reach between her legs and rub until she heard a whimper. At the most inopportune times she finds herself wondering if she could make the agent scream her name.

It's what gets her through the bad cases. The ones she doesn't, or has no desire to, understand. The image in her mind of Olivia with her hair loose, wild, with a soft sheen of sweat covering her bare body as she lets Astrid work her into a frenzy. Like now, when she's got her hand elbow deep in something that can only be described as alien mystery meat and the blond is staring over her shoulder wearing an expression of faint distaste, all Astrid cares to know is what subtle cinnamon scent she's wearing that keeps wafting up her nose and how it would taste if she were to suck it off...


End file.
